People Skills and Preventative Measures
by BatmansBabe
Summary: HL “I thought of that. So I figured I’d have to go with preventative measures instead.” “Like a backup plan?” “More like a preemptive strike.”


AN: So this started out as a little drabble because I was looking at some old Gilmore Girls clips and this one scene in "The Party's Over" seemed to really fit Han and Leia, but it…kind of sprouted wings and a mind of it's own and…this is what came out. I have to say I'm really pleased with how my hijacked mind wrote this.

Disclaimer: Suffice it to say, I don't own. Anything.

People Skills and Preventative Measures

Leia twisted uncomfortably, playing with the white satin of her dress as the Festian in front of her continued his blatant insinuations. She hated it when someone tried to set her up with some prince from another planet, and she had absolutely no doubt this one had been sent over to entertain her by _someone_. Most aggravating was the fact that anyone who might feel the need to send this man to see her was sure to know (and therefore disapprove of) her semi-secret relationship. She kept it under wraps from the general public, but people knew. They did. She turned her gaze about the room, trying to tune out the buzzing noise that was the man's (Ryothin's?) grating voice, and immediately found Mon Mothma dropping her gaze before their eyes caught.

"Anyway…how old are you again?"

She glanced up at him. "Twenty-three."

He smiled. "Great. Great. Just…wanted to make sure everything was legal."

Leia forced herself not to insult him right then and there. This wasn't some smuggler with a bounty the size of Ord Mantell on his head. This was…well, the closest you could get to nobility on Fest, anymore.

"Can I get you a drink?"

"Drink? No. No thank you."

"Makes you a little crazy, huh?"

She tried not to roll her eyes. "Yes. That's it. Exactly."

"I'd like to see that." He said, leering at her from under a curtain of dark hair. And she'd once called Han scruffy.

Suddenly, the soft pressure of an arm dropped across her shoulders, and she caught sight of light brown hair before a familiar set of lips pressed against her cheek. "Leia. I'm late, I'm sorry, don't be mad." His eyes flew to the Festian. "Han Solo," he said, extending an arm with all the good graces of the royalty Mon Mothma seemed intent on finding for her.

"Riodain Greth."

"Nice to make your acquaintance," Han said, and he would have sounded completely sincere if his eyes hadn't flashed a little dangerously. "Thanks for keeping my girl diverted, because if you hadn't she would have noticed _exactly_ how late I am, and then she would have been angry with me, and that, my friend, would have been very bad indeed."

"Wait – you're, uh… together?"

"Going on…" Han turned to Leia, giving her a wily grin, "how long has it been, Sweetheart? Four…five years?"

Leia tried not to smile back. If the man was going to milk it, she might as well let him. "Four and a half, hun." She bit back a laugh at the face he made.

Greth looked puzzled. "Great. So. I'll just…" he raised his hands like he might gesture, but didn't move them once they'd been elevated.

"See you," Han supplied, and in a swift motion turned them both away. His arm was snug about her waist as he led her towards a table filled with iced champagne bottles. She let out a deep breath.

"Thank you," she said, reaching up to squeeze his hand.

"One of these days I'm not gonna be so nice."

"One of these days I'm not going to care anymore."

"That Mon Mothma just doesn't take no for an answer, does she?" he asked, weaving through the scattered groups to make it to the table.

"I don't know what I can possibly say or do that might convince her I don't secretly want to marry a Prince and unite two planets vast fortunes."

He was quiet a moment. "You could always marry me and unite your vast fortune with my not-so-large bank account."

She knew it was only half-jest. So instead of responding, she let him lead her to the table, where he studied the spread with a critical eye. "Well, your little government sure has good taste. I'll give them that."

"Only the best for General Riekkan."

Han coughed. "Speaking of…"

"General Solo. Princess Leia."

She spun on her heel, causing Han's arm to fall to her low back. She noticed he didn't seem intent on replacing it, as he started to rub small circles there. "I heard you made a contact in Esseles, General. Congratulations."

"Easy work, sir. Once I figured out where to go, that is."

"General, you're the first person in twenty years to make contact at all with the natives. To make an alliance in the same trip is extraordinary."

Han shrugged it off. With as large an ego as he had, he certainly couldn't take a compliment. "I guess I just have good people skills."

Riekkan turned his gaze fondly toward Leia. "You're well, Princess?"

"I am. Overwhelmed, but well."

"Except?"

She smiled at him. "I suppose you couldn't plant a seed in Mon Mothma's head that will let her know to stop sending me Princes?"

He shook his head. "I'm afraid there is little anyone can do about that." Riekkan glanced between Han and Leia. "Except for the most obvious."

He excused himself to go speak to a representative from Naboo. Han shuffled his feet a bit before composing himself. "Alright. Rule One in reference to boring parties: form a subparty." He grabbed a bottle of champagne by the neck, and two flutes to go with, and spread his fingers out across her lower back, piloting her toward the large open doorway that led onto a terraced patio.

"I'm pretty sure even subparties involve more than two people," she informed his shoulder as he continued to propel her forward.

Reaching the balcony, Han set the flutes on a bench, and pulled her down to sit next to him. "That was just an excuse to get you alone."

"I'm shocked that you'd do such a thing."

"Hey, I'm just full of surprises."

She watched him as he poured out two glasses, letting her fingers linger over his as he handed her a drink, feeling warm despite the breeze rustling her skirts and causing the leaves in the trees around them to make soft, swishing noises. He leaned back against the railing, crossing one leg over the other, and she took a moment to admire the expanse of his neck, the fit of his shirt (not, she was surprised to see, one of his normal no-longer-quite-white shirts, but one she'd bought for him hoping one day he might decide to wear it instead), the way his hair seemed to flop naturally right above his left eye, the way his pants emphasized muscle and sinew.

"What are you thinking about?" he asked, one eye opening to glance at her. She took a sip of champagne.

"I'd tell you, but then –."

"Indulge me just this once." He shifted, facing her more fully, and reached for her free hand. He massaged it between calloused fingers, staring intently at her. She felt heat rising in her face, as she always did when he looked at her like he was now.

"I was thinking about what Riekkan said."

"About Esseles? You were there. It wasn't a big deal."

She studied their twined hands for a moment. "No. No, I was thinking about the other thing he said."

Han was silent. His fingers played with the little hollow on the inside of her wrist, and she was sure he could feel her racing heart beat. She set her glass down beside her, and eventually looked up. Their gazes locked, and this time she was sure she could _hear_ her heart beat.

"And what you said."

She dropped her gaze to just below his lips, attentively skimming over the scar on his chin she'd seen him rubbing whenever he was in a really foul mood. She wasn't ready for this. He wasn't. They weren't ready for this. She'd been telling herself so for months, since his first, sudden reference to marriage, one she'd thrown off a little too quickly. But the longer she'd been telling herself that they weren't ready, the more she realized what a blatant denial it was. They'd known each other for five years. Been half-in love with each other since they'd met. She'd gone through more with, and for, him than some people did in an entire lifetime. And Han's references had, in the last few months, become less and less joking, until she was sure, at times, that he was completely serious, and the only thing that made him give that goofy smile that let her know he was joking was the uneasy look on her own face.

"Well, my bank account isn't really all that small," he said softly.

"Han."

"Yeah, Princess?"

She squeezed his fingers, waiting until his eyes met hers before continuing. "I don't care about your bank account. I wouldn't care if you didn't have a credit to your name."

"Well, I'd care."

She smiled. "Yes. I imagine you would."

He "harrumphed" and took a sip of champagne.

"Han," she said again, this time more quietly. She was almost certain the breeze had carried it away, as quiet as it had been, until he answered.

"Leia."

She held his gaze. "Will you marry me?"

His face was one of complete surprise. He slowly, very slowly, set down his glass, and glanced at their hands while searching for some way to respond. If she hadn't been so caught up in the moment, she would have wondered why she hadn't done this before, if it was all it took to make him completely unable to come up with a retort.

After a while, she nudged him again. "Han?"

He swallowed. "I think…I'm pretty sure that's my job."

"What?"

"Proposing."

She felt her shoulders droop. "Oh."

He cleared his throat and reached for his drink, downing it in one gulp. This wasn't going at all like she'd hoped.

She glanced at the flowering bush directly to the right of Han, at the fountain slightly off to the side and the statues in the middle of it, out towards the stars blinking brightly, and off into the distance where she could just make out the firelight from one of the Ewok's tree-huts. The Ewok's home had, only six months ago, become a hub of Rebellion get togethers, and the buildings that had been erected had been made in an attempt to match the natural beauty of the forest moon of Endor. She could still remember Han's slightly outraged look when Ackbar had outlined the plans to build a base here, his argument that the Ewoks were not only unused to human inhabitants, but were hardly harmless creatures.

But the Ewoks had been awed by the strange structures being built, and, once Artoo had explained what was happening, been oddly humbled to have their home used for such a thing.

She reached for her champagne glass, only to find it missing from its spot as Han placed the bottle on the ground beside them, moving into the space the glasses had previously used. "So about these Princes of Mon Mothma's."

She was quick to let him catch her gaze. "What about them?"

"I'm getting really tired of having to intervene."

"Are you?"

"Yeah. Real tired."

She bit back a smile. "What are your plans for solving this problem, General?"

"Well, first, I thought I'd let Mon Mothma know she wasn't getting rid of me that easily."

"And when someone else started sending Princes? Or, dare I say it, the Princes came on their own?"

"Then I'd have to get violent, and I have a feeling that wouldn't get me any points with anyone."

"No," she said, shaking her head to emphasize her point. "That wouldn't get you any points at all."

"I thought of that. So I figured I'd have to go with preventative measures instead."

"Like a back-up plan?"

"More like a preemptive strike."

"And what would this preventative measure entail, exactly?" she watched one side of his mouth curve upward as he formulated his response.

"I'm glad you asked, Your Worship. There would be a few attempts to butter you up…like that maneuver with Festian, and the secluded spot and the champagne."

"And then?"

"And then after I'd gotten you liquored up, I'd get real close like, so that I got your eyes to crinkle a little at the corners, like they are right now, and I'd make sure your heart beat was doing that little skip it always does when you're nervous. Like that," he said, two fingers resting on the pulse point of her wrist.

She felt a little breathless. "After that?"

"Well, then I'd have to do something heinous like ask you to marry me."

She nodded, watching his face loom closer to hers. "And…and what would be your next move?"

"You mean before or after I kissed you senseless?" he asked, his nose brushing against hers, a lock of hair tickling her forehead.

"I – after that."

"Well after that I'd have to marry you."

"Oh."

He leaned forward and caught her lips in his own, his hands finding their way to inappropriate places, his tongue insinuating itself in her mouth, and she let herself fall into the kiss, no worries that she might be seen, or that someone would disapprove. She kissed back, following his lead, her own hands studying the planes of his back, the nape of his neck, the feel of his hair bunched against her fingertips.

They backed slowly out of the kiss, sluggishly leaning in for more kisses as their hands came to a stop, one pair intertwined as the other rested on her back, and his neck, respectively. Han rested his forehead against hers.

"I think I like your plan of attack, General Solo."

He grinned at her, sending her a very heated gaze. "You ain't seen nothing, yet, Sweetheart. I got a whole arsenal waiting to be tested out, as soon as we get home."

She returned the look. "If we hurry, I might show you some of my _own_ strategies."

He leaned forward to kiss her again, a hand reaching up to cup her cheek. "That's probably the best negotiating chip I ever heard."


End file.
